Cordials and medicines,
perfumes concocted for the Queen’s pleasure,
herbs for the King’s kitchen
redolent of peace and the age of gold.
But with the sense of some change to come
as the fall of leaves and coming of winter.
He came on a golden evening
There was a full moon
like a ghost in the sky before sunset.
It hung behind the apple boughs
like a great misty lantern.
The room smelled of hyssop, apples and plums
laid on the shelves to ripen.
I heard a light step behind me and turned.
Magician they call me
but I niether expected his coming nor heard him
until I saw him lit by the deepening gold of the moon.
The meeting in the mist on the Island’s shore
had come back to me frequently, a dream, something imagined.
The real boy was here, flushed and smiling
as if unsure of his welcome.
Dressed in grey with a cloak the colour of beech-buds.
He began ‘I don’t suppose you remember me…’
‘Why should I not? You are the boy who is Ninian’.
From a novel by Mary Stewart
‘A tale of Merlin’s own enchanting. In the dark ebbtide of his powers he finds he is not totally deserted by his god. Struggling for resignation, he finds a fulfilment that even he had never dreamed of. His power and bright vision will be at the King’s service as long as Arthur lives, and, as he believes, long after.’
A ‘Black it Out’ for Björn’s prompt at dVerse